I walked the few paces to 2nd Street, turned left, walked to the next corner, caught the Number 5 to 3rd and Market, walked down to 2nd Street, caught the subway to 30th Street, took the train to NYC's Penn Station, walked up 8th Avenue to Port Authority, caught the bus which wound up the west shore of the Hudson to West Point's gate.

I spent the night in a makeshift dorm; next morning boarded a bus to the entrance to the Old Gym.

When I walked through that door, my life changed forever as I joined what would become West Point's Class of 1968.

My involvement with West Point's Class of 2018 started several months ago. My class has been planning a 50-Year Affiliation Program, associating us with these young men and women as they endured the gauntlet culminating in entrance ("reception") on July 2, and thereafter.

My wife, Linda, and I were welcomed by the Mid-PA and Central PA West Point Parents Clubs at activities including the young men and women from our area who would enter this year.

Some 1,217 potential members of the Class of 2018 arrived at West Point in a much different way than did 991 of us in 1964 (706 of us would graduate).

Most of them were accompanied by several family members and friends. Tuesday's informal reception just within the Academy grounds was crowded, warm, and upbeat.

A dozen or so of us were present, welcoming, congratulating, and encouraging the candidates and families.

I was touched that candidates Kiesewetter, Benjamin and Tokarsky, whom I'd met earlier, went out of their way to find and thank me for encouragement and support.

Before 0600 the following morning, several of us were on hand to witness small groups of candidates and their entourages being briefed by a faculty member, followed by succinct remarks from a First Classman (senior cadet), culminating in "say your good-byes, you have sixty seconds."

After that, loved ones left the auditorium while the candidates beat a hasty exit in another direction where, out of sight and hearing, they started the most singular day of their lives, punctuated by countless instructions and exhortations from upper class cadets, delivered in clear, firm, and resonant command voices two or three years in development.

The mission of '68 this day was to "help relieve the angst" of the parents and others, who ran the spectrum from "no big deal" to one dad who sobbed uncontrollably for a very long time.

We were there as examples that, not only were the next four years survivable, but so were the next four or more decades.

Eternal memories of 20 classmates who died in Viet Nam were put aside temporarily; our message was singularly optimistic. Indeed, a long and challenging couple of days which I'm glad to have experienced; a marked change from my own brief good-byes.

Fifty-year affiliations didn't exist in 1964; most of the Class of August 1917 (who entered 50 years before us) and the two classes who graduated in 1918 had passed away by then.

Most of those who entered that morning were sworn in to the U.S. Army and became New Cadets (others returned home).

I'll next be with them during the MarchBack marking the end of New Cadet Training, after which most of them will be accepted and become actual West Point Cadets (more will have departed).

We'll see them frequently between now and May 2018 when some 800 to 900 will graduate and be commissioned Second Lieutenants.

Even though most of them will gladly stand in harm's way, leading our forces in whatever hostilities occur during the next four decades, they are not really representative of our population.

As opposed to '68, relatively few of their parents have worn the cloth of the nation and/or are the offspring of elected government representatives.

They are unlikely to witness, during their lifetimes, more than a very few members of Congress, cabinet officers, or even a single chief executive who is a combat veteran.

Yet they come, anyway, this year and for more than two centuries heretofore, with the noblest of intentions, taking up the responsibility from which 75% of Americans (and counting) turn away.

Anthony Ambrose served in Germany and Viet Nam following his graduation from West Point, finishing his career as an Army physician. He is currently a faculty member at Penn State-Hershey Medical Center. He and his wife live in Hershey.